


Tear Me Apart

by LysSerris



Series: One-Shot [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Bellamione Cult Ilvermorny Cup, Dark Hermione Granger, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, Implied/Referenced Torture, Prompt Fic, Torture, Turnabout is Fair Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-25 00:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LysSerris/pseuds/LysSerris
Summary: And so it was that they found themselves seated here in opposite chairs in an unadorned room, exchanging willful stares while anger bled through their every pose.Hermione here-Bellatrix there-





	Tear Me Apart

**Author's Note:**

> This is... Whatever it is

Capturing her target hadn’t been easy by any stretch of the imagination. She’d been known as the Brightest Witch of her Age after all, and for more reasons than just her test scores back at Hogwarts. She was bright, she was crafty, and above all else the end of the War had given her a ferocity that many couldn’t hope to match. All those reasons and many more led them all over England on a wild goose chase that sped off from well manicured lawns to dirty rodent infested hovels, through lakeside expanses of scenery and deep into murky caves better left unexplored. There was nowhere they wouldn’t hide now that the world wanted them dead, no depth she wouldn’t sink to in order to save their pathetic lives.

And by the Gods could she run, so fast and so well informed that it’d left her winded with exertion. And all while dragging around two broken men who’d never survive on their own. It was a wonder that they made it as far as they did. Or not, if one considered the mind behind the witch that was leading them. She certainly considered it, poured over notes and personality writeups by the dozen, profiling and  _ understanding. _ And that understanding led to knowing, and knowing led to obsessing. 

She would be  _ hers _ and no one else’s.

The War itself had been over and done with for months by the time she finally found her, since everything had come to an end in a school courtyard surrounded by devotees and fanatics on either side. Her allies, for they were never truly friends by the end of it, were so sure that they’d caught all the little bastards, eradicated every rebellious mind. But they hadn’t. The escape of only a precious few,  _ Her _ included, had led to a full-blown resistance that heated into resumed warfare within a month of the bodies being laid to rest. Explosions rocked the street corners that were sweeping up the piles of debris, supply lines and redistribution centers were set on fire and left to burn, even their newly elected representatives were finding themselves the target of covert assassinations, bodies strung up and left to rot.

Their fragile little peace was quickly falling into ruin and disrepair, a simple fact that she could  _ not _ abide.

In the end she was just so bloody tired of it all. Years spent surviving to see the next had taken its toll, and she just wanted it all to end. She wanted some well-deserved peace and relaxation.

So she’d gone off on her own, her temper flaring and blinding her mind until it had gotten the better of her, all while everyone else acted as though they’d had no heads to begin with. Which in her honest opinion might as well have been true.

But it worked.

They’d found  _ Her. _

One of a set of three, the proud and willful brain behind the trio, all strong and willful and fighting oh so very hard for what she believed in. However wrong it was. When they came upon them there was no stopping it, no way out, just a single sacrificial lamb left behind when the would be men finally ran out on her. And now that she had her within her clutches the Gods themselves would burn before she let anyone take her prize away.

\---

And so it was that they found themselves seated here in opposite chairs in an unadorned room, exchanging willful stares while anger bled through their every pose.

Hermione here-

Bellatrix there-

A silent battle of domination. The others outside their door found it crass and unimaginative, dreaming up punishments and acts of cruelty that would break the witch’s mind. But it wasn’t what she wanted and so out there they stood, while here she sat. Two titans of learned ability and carefully practiced aim going at one another in a room where magic had no presence, no influence or ability. Just one mind against the other, nails bleeding the other dry as they fought to make their point.

But in the end she won. 

_ ‘I won,’ _ her mind crooned, the words bringing such a brilliant smile to her face.

She’d taken that strong little mind and twisted it until her eyes burned, pulled at it until it stretched like taffy, scratched and bit at it until not a piece had been left unturned or overridden. She was  _ hers. _ Of course the husk still remained, as beautiful as it was horrid, an exoskeleton that managed to fight her with every step. But she loved it for what it was, all strong muscles honed on fighting and soft curves that she loved to trace with her tongue. She’d drilled her out like infection from a tooth, a perfect little simile if she did say so herself.

And she did, loudly, and within earshot of her captive as often as she could, laughter ringing crazily all the while. Some of those on the outside would whisper when she turned away, their minds made up and sure she couldn’t overhear them, sharing their belief that she was just a bit too maniacal, just a little more unhinged than was useful. A mad dog.

Rabid.

Broken and beaten into a harsh new form that molded well to her internalized madness. But they knew nothing of true insanity, she’d been the broken looking glass that  _ He _ had needed in his quest for control, and she reveled in it now.

She had what she needed. Torn from her throat to be written down on parchments dispersed far and wide.

A name.

A location.

After that it was only a matter of time.

\---

That name and that location had finally led them all here, Bellatrix digging in through his chest with her sharpened nails and manic smile, her eyes reflecting firelight in their black gaze. Blood was spilling out and over her hands as she moved with furious intensity, weighing down her black robes and staining the ground beneath them. His skin was  _ red _ instead of  _ white, _ and it was all so beautiful that she could cry. She loved it. The pain, the torment, the abject hopelessness she found within his gaze. 

It didn’t help her at all that the woman at her back was whispering quietly and pressing warmth deep into her skin. She was a girl no longer, grown hard and lean in the months since the End, her breasts pressing against her back and fingers winding down her robe to scratch and tear as the pale skin hidden within. Her words and whispers were egging her onward while the guard at their back turned away with a heavy sigh and covered his mouth with a shaking hand, unable and unwilling to observe the carnage any longer.

Even hardened jailors had their limits.

And Bellatrix was always an overachiever.

She was very clearly surpassing every limit, every convention, the crazed body behind her singing lullabies in a broken tone that made her feverish as she worked. None of these boundaries should have been crossed in the search for intelligence. There was only so much that pain could get you, and reliable information was one of the last things that it would yield. But he had told her all that he could right at the start in the hopes of saving himself from her torment. But she would not be denied her closing statement, her hard-earned work, and neither would the harpy digging nails into her skin. He’d whispered names and dates and meeting locations, all in the hope that he’d be spared. Now all he did was scream.

Gods she’d been dying to hear them again. Her time spent with Granger had been all soft tones and filthy smiles, intrigue and disaster being a stronger promoter of change than harsh whips or open wounds. And now? Now she was allowed to play again, her task sent down by a higher power, her skills unleashed so that she could bash and break.

This  _ thing _ beneath her, that writhed and yelled in clipped tones and howls of pain, it was only the first in a line of bodies for her to break. A happy day, a joyous day, and Granger budding up to celebrate it with her. The other reprobates in the cells next to this one would soon be experiencing the same or more. 

“Harder,” the manic reflection of herself giggled again and again, reveling in the screams that turned around to echo against the harsh granite. “Deeper”, she husked, before biting the skin of her neck in  _ just _ the right way. Gods she loved this, and Granger for what she’d done.

The screams intensified beyond all hope of reason or sanity, a wild sound that boomed as blood spilled down to the ground and spattered across the walls. She dug, twisted, yanked and throttled until-

Silence.

He’d managed to finally expire, the lucky sod, and left her all alone with the beast at her back and a gnawing pit of heat and  _ need _ deeply burning its way into her core.

“Good girl,” Granger bit sharply into her skin, tongue slipping out to taste the red ichor as it leaked away, “Let’s go to the next one, shall we?”

“Yes…”

They left to tend to their other guests while Neville stepped forward, his face green and stomach somewhere behind him on the floor, wand at the ready to incinerate the remains of what had once been Rodolphus Lestrange.

**Author's Note:**

> Like Bellamione? https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F come on in and join the server!


End file.
